did I ever tell you what I saw?
she was there, sitting, still and blush, looking like she had been shot and she was frozen in the moment the arrow had pierced her.
she was chained to the world, while her heart wandered below.
and did i tell you the things I would hear?
nothing. silence. in the air, there was nothing. I swear if I placed my ear against her chest, I'd hear nothing but the begging of her vessels to cease their tiresome beating.
what I tasted?
the breath of her lips was from that of a stilled lung and dry lips. stale and pale as a ship that sails over tides and beneath wales of a frail moon.
touch?
I could touch nothing around her, or she would shatter. The wind was like a hammer to a nail in glass. The utterance of a single songbird would echo into her grey eyes and boil her to dust. Not magic, but a curse.
scent?
it smelled of lilies, and nostalgia. and each memory was a traitor which made her question, "How could I ever have trusted you?" For memories are blossoms one happy moment but bruises the next dreadful one. Often, we forget sunshine when it rains. Often it is when thunder strikes that we cower in the absence of blue.